


Epilogue

by BBCotaku



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Anxiety, Drabble, Epilogue, F/M, Ghosts, One Shot, Veronica cant catch a break, the dead characters are pricks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:39:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBCotaku/pseuds/BBCotaku
Summary: And everything went back to normal--mostly.





	

_Dear Diary,_

_You'd think after everything that happened that high school would seem easy by comparison. But alas essays, algebra, World War Two and french still manage to worm their way into my life._

Things would probably be easier if I didn't put things off by writing them down, Veronica thought, closing her diary with a snap before turning back to her French vocab homework.

"I should have taken German," she mumbled, tapping her pencil lightly against the page. The idea sent a shiver down her spine.

What would she have done if she had?

"I lie bullets." How fucking cocky could you get?

She'd have cussed him out, that's what she would have done. Broken up with him there and then. Gone to the police. Cut down the death count from four to one at worst, from four to zero at best.

Veronica cringed, resting her forehead in her hand. No, that was all just wishful thinking and she knew it. They would have kissed and made up. She'd have tried to change him--fix him. Would it have worked? Probably not. He'd have moved, met someone else, killed someone else. Blown up another school. Fuck, who was to say he hadn't killed someone else before?

Her stomach twisted, a hot blob of bile rising at the back of her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth, her jaw clamped tightly as she fought back against her gag reflex. Throwing down her pencil she reached for a small pill bottle at the edge of her desk. Swallowing bile Veronica shook two Prozac tablets into her palm, choosing to swallow them dry rather than face her parents getting water.

"You should be careful with those." The voice made the hair on the back of Veronica's neck stand on end. "How much does it take to kill you again?"

"A lot," Veronica croaked, swallowing hard. "Fuck off, Heather."

"Rude." Heather leaned against Veronica's desk, a small smirk on her lips. From where she sat Veronica could see a small stain of blue liquid running down the side of the ghost's mouth. A memento of her so-called suicide.

"Leave me alone," Veronica grunted under her breath, turning her gaze back to her work.

"Oh, not a chance."

She was supposed to fuck off after JD died. Why the _fuck_ was she still here?!

"Ha! Catfight!"

They all were.

Ram and Kurt sat crammed in their usual corner by the heater, grins slapped childishly across their faces.

"Aw shit, look Veronica's gonna spew!" Kurt cried, jabbing a finger at Veronica. She could see the muscle behind the hole in his chest moving, sending another wave of nausea through her stomach.

"New rule," Veronica said, rubbing her lips on the back of her hand. "Unless you know the French word for 'swimming pool' shut the fuck up and leave me alone. For five fucking minutes just leave me the hell alone." She grit her teeth, hands balling into fists. "Just let me live my fucking life."

Heather opened her mouth, lips curling into a harsh smirk before she was cut off.

" _Piscine_."

God above she was going to be sick again. "You shut up."

J.D rolled his eyes. "I'm just helping out, babe. Better than the rest of these sons-of-bitches." He lay, spread out on Veronica's bed, hands behind his head. J.D was, by far, the most dead-looking of all the ghosts. His chest and stomach were a mess of exposed gut and charred flesh that seemed to be sewn together by pure will-power alone. At first, the gore had sent Veronica reeling, now she was more than used to it, now she just wondered how the hell he was more than a couple of ashes and a jacket.

"What you say, fag?" Ram snapped, climbing to his feet.

"And here we go again," J.D groaned, not even bothering to look the jock in the eye. "Just cause we're dead doesn't mean I can't still kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

Shakily, Veronica slammed a hand against her desk. "Corners. Now," she spat, pointing to either side of the room. "I swear to god if you two start fighting again I'll--" her words caught in her throat. "I'll... _fuck_...I'll call a goddamn exorcist!"

"Good luck with that, hon," Heather grumbled, more focused on her nails than Veronica's threat.

"A what?" Ram asked dumbly, his head cocked to the side.

J.D facepalmed, giving a loud groan. "God above I'm actually in hell." He sat up, shooting Veronica a sharp grin. "Well...almost."


End file.
